


The Paths Tears Take

by pyroclastics



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Accidental Death, Angst, Drabble, Funeral, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyroclastics/pseuds/pyroclastics
Summary: Written for a drabble challenge. Prompt word: Dead.





	The Paths Tears Take

**Author's Note:**

> Written in Jan., 2014. I won't say anything more than I'm sorry...

The snowflakes dance, softly like the lilt of his deep voice. His faint deep voice. When Zitao closes his eyes he can hear it fluttering so near his ears. Deep and soft like the wind and strong like the earth and it crackles like the ground crunching beneath his feet. _Crunch crunch…_ ice flakes and bits of dirt and broken leaves under his spit-shined shoes.  
  
He spots a leaf dangling from a branch nearby - everyone is gathered near that tree. It's a sad tree right now, but something about the melody on the wind tells Zitao it's a good place.  
  
Is that supposed to be comfort?  
  
There's an older couple grasping each other's hands up front, heads bowed. He doesn't know what to say to them. They never met, but Zitao needs an explanation. Otherwise he's a stranger. A stranger who knew that rumbling voice better than the ground could ever possibly learn. A stranger who knew it best. His suit feels foreign. He's uncomfortable, shifting on his feet as he bows his head too. There are flakes of ice caking over his new shoes.  
  
"We are here today…" Zitao holds his breath. He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't know how to accept it. None of these other people do either, but he feels entitled to not want it more! The soft pads of Chanyeol's fingers interlocking with his own deep in his pocket are gone. The laughter, where he'd throw his head back and let the very atmosphere join in - that's gone too. It's gone, all gone. "…to mourn the loss…" He raises a hand to his lips, seeking out the fleeting warmth that's evaporated away. "of Park Chanyeol." Cremation was really cruel, and the photo resting on the altar wasn't enough. There's not even a coffin for his heart to crawl inside of and melt away.  
  
His eyes seek the light in the photograph's own, but all he finds are his own choked tears. One escapes. _"Your emotions are taking a walk!"_ He remembers after a tearful movie night just a few weeks before, curled up in Chanyeol's apartment on the bed with nothing but a laptop and their dreams. _"Don't brush your tears away, Zitao. They have to take their paths… plus they make you pretty."_ His fists are clenched now, while an eulogy that doesn't do the young life justice falls deaf on the Chinese man's ears.  
  
If he had just gone to that party, maybe he could have saved him. Hell, he _knows_ he could have. Somehow... He missed New Years celebrations only to have his resolutions come crashing down before he could make them. _"Someone must've spiked his drink… It was so creepy. He was just floating in the pool in the cold."_ Zitao shudders, remembering the voice on the phone. The person had sounded half stunned and mostly tipsy, like phone call duty had been shoved on them solely because of their innocent bystander status. _"What happened?"_ He'd asked softly. And he was still asking it. Begging the wind that whipped across his face to give him an answer. To lose his hopes to some accident...  
  
 _It's not fair._  
  
He can't even feel the air moving into his own lungs. Maybe he's the dead one. He turns his face to the wind, hoping it will blow the stains from his cheeks but they only freeze over - the final footprints of his lover's life carved upon his cheeks.


End file.
